


Picking Up the Pieces

by rhoen



Series: Let Me Count the Ways [7]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Angst, Aoba Tells It Like It Is, Emotional Hurt, Hurt No Comfort, Injury, M/M, Potentially Career Ending Injuries, Raidou Fucked Up, Unresolved Emotional Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-30
Updated: 2017-08-30
Packaged: 2018-12-21 19:30:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11951091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rhoen/pseuds/rhoen
Summary: With his career and his friendship with Genma at stake, Raidou's life feels a lot like it's falling apart.





	Picking Up the Pieces

**Author's Note:**

> Midweek update! Woo! This update wouldn't have happened without the support from some awesome people over on tumblr, and I'm so grateful to you all for your support. I really hope this update was worth the wait, and I'll try not to leave it so long before the next one!
> 
> And thanks as always to my wonderful beta Kali ^_^

“And no training either.”

Raidou nodded mutely, staring down at the small bundle of things gathered in his lap which had accumulated over his few days in the hospital. It amounted to little: the clothes he’d come in wearing, his toothbrush and toothpaste, a comb Aoba had bought at a nearby shop when he forgot to collect Raidou’s from his home, and a copy of Icha Icha Paradise he’d only started out of boredom and continued out of loneliness. He was wearing the only change of clothes Aoba had fetched, and they made him so intensely uncomfortable he wished he could disappear. Aoba couldn’t have known, but he’d managed to pick the t-shirt and sweatpants Raidou had leant Genma all those weeks ago. He’d avoided wearing them until now. Genma had laundered and returned the clothes, which had sat separate from Raidou’s other clean laundry, and in the sterile environment of the hospital, Raidou was acutely aware of the scent of Genma’s laundry powder, reminding him of things he’d rather forget but was unable to push from his mind.

“I’ll see you again in two days’ time to assess your progress,” Tsunade continued, thrusting discharge papers at him. “But contact me sooner if anything changes.”

“Yes, Hokage,” he replied dutifully, balancing his things as he signed the form he’d seen countless times before.

“And you’re sure there’s no one who can stay with you?”

Raidou pushed the paperwork back at her. “I’ll be fine. Aoba is coming by this evening.”

Tsunade seemed unimpressed with his answer, one hand resting on her hip. He didn’t like the way she looked at him. “Raidou, do you understand how serious this is?”

“Yes, Hokage,” he said again, not wanting to think about it.

“Any chakra use whatsoever…” she warned.

“I understand.”

Tsunade sighed. “I’m tempted to tear this up and keep you in another night, you know that?”

Raidou’s gaze fell to the floor as he tried to hide his reaction. As much as he might dislike being in the hospital, he wasn’t ready to face going home. Being held in stasis was better than what awaited him beyond the hospital walls, and he hoped Tsunade would make good on her threat.

He should have known he wouldn’t be so lucky.

“Go home, Raidou,” she said gently, stepping aside in clear dismissal.

Wordlessly, he obeyed. With his things cradled in his arms, he made his way from the room that had been his home for the last four days, and fervently prayed to whatever gods existed that he wouldn’t bump into anyone he knew on the way home.

 

He managed to make it mostly unscathed. As he turned onto his street and caught sight of his home his heart leapt into his mouth, but it was only Aoba waiting for him, no one else. Genma hadn’t been to see him in days, not since walking out of the hospital room with such finality. The lump that had formed in Raidou’s throat back then shifted uncomfortably, and he struggled to swallow around it, not wanting to think about Genma at all but unable to avoid doing so when so much of his life had been interconnected with the other man’s. Missions notwithstanding, this was the longest they’d ever gone without seeing each other, and Raidou could feel it taking its toll. 

“You still look like shit,” Aoba smirked, uncrossing his arms and clapping Raidou on the shoulder when he reached the door. “What have they been feeding you? Stodgy rice and dry, overcooked beef?”

“It wasn’t that bad,” Raidou shrugged, unlocking the door and testing the dull ache that persisted in his leg and hip.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” Aoba waved his hand dismissively. “Hurry up and get inside.”

Raidou frowned, not liking the fuss Aoba was making but unable to do anything about it. “I’m going to change,” he announced as the door snapped shut behind them, realising too late that it meant he’d have to face his bedroom. Not wanting Aoba to pick up on his discomfort, Raidou pushed himself towards the bedroom, trying to keep his gaze unfocused. He was all too aware of the still-unmade bed as he entered the room, and as he looked away from the neatly folded pile of clothes still resting on the bed and caught the glimmer of light reflecting off the senbon resting on the bedside table, it felt as if he was being pierced by the slender weapon. He was so acutely aware of everything around him that he reached for the first clothes he could find, leaving the room in a rush. He wasn’t ready to think about what had happened the last time he was home.

Changing in the bathroom felt a little more comfortable. He’d had more time to distance himself from the post-mission tryst he’d had with Genma, although it was impossible to forget it, and the image of Genma leaning casually against the sink, hips canted at an inviting angle tugged cruelly at Raidou’s mind. The longing to reach out to him that had seized Raidou back then rippled through him, leaving heavy regret in its wake, and he quickened his actions, changing in a rush and trying to push the thoughts and memories from his mind.

He couldn’t help hesitating as he pulled on a loose pair of sweatpants, casting an eye over the bruise-like mark now marring his skin. It was ugly and unbecoming, but, more than that, it was also dangerous. It had nearly cost him his life; it still could if he wasn’t careful. There was no telling how well it would heal, if it would heal at all. His life, and future as a shinobi, was tied to the mottled, ruined skin tissue.

As he thought about it, and his decision not to tell Genma, Raidou felt a twist of misery. He covered the grotesque blemish, wishing it were that easy to conceal all his other mistakes, and then made his way towards the kitchen.

He could hear Aoba long before he saw him, and as he entered the brightly lit space he caught the welcoming scent of soy sauce and cooking meat. Aoba was in the middle of chopping vegetables to throw into the pan, and Raidou felt humbled as he watched his friend prepare the recently bought ingredients.

“You didn’t have to,” he said, looking around for something to do.

Aoba shrugged. “You need a decent meal.” Pointing with the knife, he continued: “Your post is over there.”

Raidou went to the small, uninteresting collection of envelopes, opening each in turn and busying himself checking the contents as Aoba continued cooking. He tried not to grimace as the muscle in his thigh started to twinge and ache, doing his best to keep Aoba from realising it was paining him.

“Go sit.”

He should have known better than to try. Abandoning the letters, Raidou traipsed through to the living room, collapsing onto the sofa without much thought. The injury gave another twinge of protest, and he tried to ignore it. It wasn’t easy. There was little else to draw his focus, other than the familiar contents of his living room, and as he considered the items around him he couldn’t help wondering if he was the same as his belongings: dry, dull, and uninteresting. He’d never felt the need to collect things that had no use outside his job, and when he looked around at the scattering of possessions he’d amassed over the years, he realised they didn’t amount to much at all. Remove anything related to his life as a shinobi from the equation, and there was nothing left. Being a shinobi was all he’d ever known. It was all he knew how to do.

And he might have lost it already.

And his friendship with Genma.

The hollow ache within him worsened, a slow, awful facsimile of fear growing in the darkness, threatening to draw him down. He’d been carefully avoiding thinking about Genma for the last few days, but it felt like he couldn’t outrun it any longer. Those few, terrible minutes of Genma’s visit in the hospital replayed in his mind, more and more awful with each recollection. The broken tone of Genma’s voice, the anger and frustration, and the tears Raidou couldn’t help noticing tore at his heart, everything harder to bear in retrospect because Raidou had done nothing to prevent or fix it. By the time he’d found his voice Genma was gone, and he hadn’t come back. Raidou had spent the rest of his hospital stay hoping – so desperately hoping – that Genma would come back. He stayed away. Raidou couldn’t really blame him.

_ “I’m sorry I cared.” _

He’d let Gemma down. No matter what else happened between them, he’d still managed to betray that sense of trust, and had unthinkingly shut out the one person who had always been there by his side, through thick and thin. The fact he’d hurt Genma pained him far more than any injury he’d ever sustained, and he wasn’t surprised to realise he was shivering, trembling with acute discomfort. How could he have been so selfish?

He didn’t know what he’d been thinking. He was afraid, perhaps. He wasn’t good with feelings. That morning when he’d woken alone he’d not been able to face just how disappointed he was, and he’d not had the strength to touch the yawning chasm in his heart Genma’s absence caused. It was easier to turn away from the source of discomfort, trying to reject it. After all, he’d been so sure he was alone in what he was feeling. On the mission he’d assumed it was just some fun for Genma, and the night before he’d ended up in hospital… well, he’d assumed it was pity that drove Genma to follow him from the bar, and he’d been so desperate for Genma’s touch he hadn’t cared.

And now… Now Raidou had no idea where they stood. He wasn’t sure he’d survive finding out if the answer was that their friendship had been ruined irreparably, but at the same time he needed to know. He needed to know just how much he’d lost.

“Here,” Aoba said, materialising in the living room with two steaming bowls of food, thunking one down on the table before carefully taking the other seat and setting his own bowl down with far more care. Raidou bit back a sigh as he made his way over, looking down at the meal Aoba had prepared. It was infinitely better than anything he’d had in weeks, and he opened his mouth to say as much, only to find his attempt cut short as, the moment he sat down, Aoba spoke abruptly.

“So are we gonna talk about it?”

Raidou closed his mouth again, fiddling with his chopsticks and loosely stirring his food. His appetite diminished. He knew what Aoba was referring to.

“You fucked up. You know that, right?”

Hearing it made Raidou feel even worse, and he hunched his shoulders, knowing he deserved everything that was coming.

“I worked with him the last two days,” Aoba announced, selecting his next bite of food. “I covered one of your shifts.”

Silence stretched out as Aoba chewed his mouthful and Raidou tried to dredge up the strength to ask what he knew he needed to. His stomach rolled with unease, the inviting meal before him doing nothing to distract him from his dread.

“How was he?” he managed at last, hating the weakness in his own voice and wishing as soon as he’d spoken that he could take the words back. He could feel Aoba’s stern gaze, even through the dark glasses he wore, and couldn’t help tensing, trying to prepare for the blow.

“Genma? He’s miserable.”

Raidou didn’t care if Aoba saw the way he slumped, his last reserve of strength crumbling to nothing. He’d already known the answer, and yet to hear it left him heartbroken. To be the cause of his best friend’s misery was unbearable. He was no friend at all.

“Is he okay?”

Mercifully, Aoba’s response wasn’t as cutting as Raidou deserved. “He’s okay,” he said honestly. “Trying to hide it all though, and doing a piss poor job of it, I might add.”

Raidou didn’t exactly feel relieved at the revelation, but at least his mood didn’t slip any lower. He finally took a bite of food, allowing the rich, wonderful flavour to distract him for a moment.

“The food’s good,” he murmured. “Thank you.”

“Of course it is. I made it.”

He huffed at Aoba’s mannerism, trying to relax enough to enjoy more.

“So did you two screw or what?”

It was almost impossible to finish his mouthful. Raidou’s gaze fell, his mood crashing to a new low as he tried to swallow the food that had turned to chalk in his mouth. If there was anyone else who deserved the truth, no matter how much Raidou didn’t want to share it, it was Aoba. He’d been Raidou’s friend since the Academy, before they were even placed on the same genin team. Raidou knew he could trust him with more than his life, and the least such steadfast friendship deserved was honesty.

“Not exactly,” he confessed, unwilling to look up.

“Not exactly?” Aoba echoed in clear confusion. “You certainly did something. Genma was over the moon the other morning.”

Raidou’s heart twisted painfully, yearning and despair gripping him as he thought of the morning in question: the morning he’d woken alone and been so sure that the night before had been nothing but a casual hook-up for Genma. He hasn't realised that it might have meant something to Genma too.

“We just…” he tried to explain, finding nothing coming to mind. With a sigh, Raidou have a half-hearted, weary shrug. “He kept me company.”

“And you repaid him by giving him the cold shoulder the next time you met.”

Raidou couldn’t deny it. Aoba had been there. Moments before, Raidou had overheard Genma telling Aoba that they were nothing more than friends, and at the time he hadn’t considered that there might have been another way to respond when they'd come fact to face. Looking back he wondered if even a forced smile would have been better. He hated ifs and maybes, and knew that no good would come of living in the past, but he couldn’t help wondering how things might have played out if he’d acted differently. He’d have loved to see Genma smile, and to know that he didn’t hate or regret going home with Raidou. He’d certainly have loved to have Genma’s company for a short time each day in the hospital, and not just the few, miserable minutes he’d managed to earn himself.

“I thought he didn’t want…”

“Did you ask him what he wants?

Raidou fell silent, unable to put into words the simple truth: that he was afraid to ask, afraid to find out.

“Do you even know what you want?”

_ Genma _ , Raidou thought, in that moment uncaring about the finer details. They didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was Genma, and, even then, Raidou supposed he could live without Genma in his life if only he could take away the pain he’d caused and know that Genma was okay, that he was happy.

“I thought as much.”

Aoba no doubt took his silence for indecisiveness, and Raidou didn’t bother to correct him. After all, he was incapable of fully forming an idea of what he really wanted in his mind, too afraid of never realising it to truly acknowledge what it was he really wanted. If it remained abstract, unnamed, it wouldn’t hurt so much to never have it.

Or that was the theory, anyway. It wasn’t working too well in practice. Raidou’s heart felt so bruised and battered he was surprised to feel it still beating. Each kick of the muscle was just short of agonising, and in the silence that followed Aoba’s words he struggled to know what to do with himself. Aoba seemed content to let him be, so, after a few long, painful moments in which he tried to work out how to shoulder the new weight of unhappiness bearing down on him, Raidou turned back to his meal.

They ate in silence, Raidou finishing first despite starting after Aoba, and when they were both done he paused for a moment, testing the feedback from his nervous system.

“Does it still hurt?”

Raidou considered his answer as he stood, reaching for Aoba’s bowl. “A little.”

“You should sit down then.”

“I’ve had enough of sitting around.”

Aoba shook his head, but didn’t argue, instead standing and following Raidou through to the kitchen. “Are you cleared for training?”

“No.”

“Not even taijutsu?”

“No. No training, no shifts, no missions.”

“For how long?”

Raidou let the water from the tap run more violently than he ought to, rapidly heating water splashing onto his hand and catching the front of his top. “I go back for a checkup in two days.”

He knew Aoba heard what he didn’t say. The sound of rushing water filled the heavy silence between them, and when the sink was full enough Raidou shut the tap off, dumping the dishes in and then wiping helplessly at his brow. He didn't want pity.

“I hope it’s good news,” Aoba said, his tone soft and sincere. Raidou could only nod in response, his throat closing against any attempt to speak as he started to scrub the chopsticks clean.

“I could come with you?”

Raidou shook his head at the offer, unable to look at his friend as he rinsed the chopsticks and handed them over for Aoba to dry. “I’d rather go on my own.”

“You know you don’t have to though? Genma would go with you too, if you asked him.”

Raidou’s heart twisted at Aoba’s words. He couldn’t ask that of Genma, not after what he’d done to him.

“Fuck knows why, but he’s still your friend you know.”

“Aoba,” Raidou cut in in warning, meaning to add something more as he scowled down at the soapy water. Nothing came to him, though, and after a few moments he was forced to surrender his anger and frustration. It wasn’t justified. Instead, he resigned himself to the truth and forced himself to find the courage to confess what he’d done, his voice weak and listless as he spoke again. “Aoba, I told them not to tell him.”

Clearly perplexed, it took Aoba a moment to respond, his brow creased in confusion. “Told who?”

“The hospital. When I went in, I… I told them not to tell Genma I was there.”

Aoba completely stilled as he took in Raidou’s words, incredulous. “But he’s your first contact.”

Misery clawed at Raidou’s chest, making it hard to breathe again, and all energy and motivation left him, his hands coming to rest limply in the dishwater. “I know.”

“How did he find out then? He knew where you were when I turned up to cover your shift.”

“Anko.”

Aoba shook his head, balling the tea towel up and throwing it onto the counter. “You’re an asshole, Rai, you know that?”

Raidou expected his abrupt words. What he didn’t expect was for Aoba to give him a firm shove, pushing him away from the sink. He went easily, too surprised by the action to do anything about it.

“Wha—?”

“Go and fucking talk to him.”

“I ca—”

“Look, if you’re ever going to apologise don’t make him wait for it. He deserves better than that.”

Raidou stood there, adrift. He knew Aoba was right. He knew what he had to do. And yet, he felt incapable of stringing together all the actions required of him.

“I was doing the dishes,” he managed in weak protest, not even sure why he was saying it.

“I’ll do them. Go on. Be back in an hour, though,” he added in stern warning, “or I’ll come looking for you. Tsunade will skin me alive if you end up back in the hospital on my watch.”

“Yeah…” Raidou mumbled absentmindedly, turning away from Aoba just enough to stare out the window at the afternoon sun playing off the building opposite. He wasn’t sure he wanted to go outside; it had felt stifling earlier to be forced to walk at a civilian pace with shinobi all around him. The timeframe helped, though. It gave him an objective, a schedule. He didn’t have to be gone for long. “I’ll uh…”

He looked down at his still dripping hands, and watched the subtle way they trembled, wondering if they'd ever stop. Curling them into fists, he gathered together what little resolve he could. “I’ll be back in a bit,” he announced.

“Right,” Aoba nodded in acknowledgement, his hands already in the dishwater. “See you in an hour.”

Raidou left him to it.

There was something important he needed to do.

 

The moment he neared Genma’s door, Raidou realised he should have thought the whole thing through a little more thoroughly before leaving his flat. Although he had a rough idea what he might say, having rehearsed it in his head a hundred times, he was poorly dressed, having shoved his feet into his sandals without even bothering to change his clothes or put on his hitai-ate, and water had splashed the front of his top, leaving dark stains on the mottled grey fabric. He knew he looked a mess, a fact which wasn’t helped by the pallor of his skin or way his heart was trying to claw its way out through his throat, leaving him marooned in discomfort. His stomach lurched with unease, and the calm, steady centre he’d always been able to reach so easily was a tumultuous, unsteady storm of discord. He was nervous beyond belief, barely able to raise his hand to the doorbell when he reached it, because he knew that so much rested on this moment. He was afraid of getting it wrong.

As he pressed the buzzer, Raidou half hoped Genma wasn’t in. His stomach tied itself in even tighter knots, and as he returned his hands to his sides he wiped his sweaty palms as surreptitiously as he could on the black fabric of his sweatpants. The last memory he had of Genma replayed in his mind, tormenting him. He knew Genma could not have forgotten it either; he had to hope that he would forgive.

Almost immediately, he heard the sound of the door being unlocked, and he nearly bolted. The instinctive rippling of chakra cut through him, weakening him, and as the door swung open, revealing Genma’s pallid frame, he fought more than just emotional distress.

Genma looked awful. His features were pale and drawn, his eyes underscored by dark rings and his mouth tugged down at the corners. He clearly hadn’t been sleeping well, and perhaps not even eating well too. Raidou’s heart broke at the sight of him, and the moment in which they simply stared, stunned by each other’s appearance, ended when words started to spill from Raidou's lips.

“I wanted to apologise,” he blurted out, flushing as he remembered his own unkempt appearance. He bowed, realising as he did that the sincere gesture had the additional benefit of hiding his face. “For everything: for the way I treated you, for taking you for granted, for being such a shit friend. I didn’t consider how much my actions would hurt you. I… I’m sorry.”

He didn’t even ask for Genma’s forgiveness. He figured that, after cutting Genma out of his life and wounding him so deeply, he didn’t have the right to ask.

“I shouldn’t have done it,” he tacked on, uncomfortable with the silence growing between them. He ached for a response – any sort of acknowledgement – but it seemed that Genma couldn’t work out how to respond. Raidou could feel his gaze, and sweat prickled at his palms again, making him itch to wipe them dry. He didn’t know how much longer he could take the silence.

“Rai…”

Genma’s voice flooded Raidou with relief and heartache, and as he straightened up he struggled to find an appropriate expression to wear. Genma sounded so lost, so torn, and yet he’d said Raidou’s name, speaking it so softly, with such bittersweet tenderness that Raidou clung to the memory of it, the sound echoing in his mind. He couldn’t miss the way Genma’s eyes brimmed with unshed tears, which he tried to blink back as he held himself in check. Raidou could feel something there, something between them that tugged and drew at his heart, begging him to move closer, and he instinctively knew Genma felt it too, and fought it. His fingers twitched by his side, as if he might reach out to Raidou.

And then Raidou noticed what Genma was wearing. His flak jacket was zipped up, his feet sandaled and his calves neatly bound in leg wrappings. The speed at which he’d answered the door suddenly made sense.

“I… I have to go to work,” Genma explained, his voice tight, straining to push past something obstructing his throat. Raidou swallowed thickly as Genma continued, feeling the same knot lodged just beneath his adam’s apple. “Are you okay?”

He didn’t have an answer. Raidou had to look away, uncomfortable with how exposed he felt. “I don’t know,” he admitted, wishing he could give the right answer and yet not knowing what it was.

Genma gave a choked sob, sounding almost as if he was about to fall apart. Raidou met his gaze again, feeling layer after layer of himself fall away as he stood there and allowed Genma to see every part of him. That feeling, that magnetism, hadn’t dissipated, and Raidou wanted to give in to it, to gravitate towards Genma. He didn’t dare to, though. Genma held himself perfectly still, in no way inviting the reckless compulsion that gripped Raidou.

“Are you?” Raidou asked in return, unable to do anything else as he struggled to keep his emotions in check.

“Yeah,” Genma lied. “I, um… I need to go.”

As he took a step forward, Raidou managed to move out of his way despite the longing to reach out and stop him.

“Do you want to come by later?” he found himself blurting out, impulsive words spilling from his lips in a desperate bid to bridge the distance between them in some way. “I could cook something and we could, you know, uh, catch up?”

His offer finished weakly, and as the door fell shut behind Genma, leaving them alone on the porch together, Raidou couldn’t help cringing at his own pathetic words and the finality of the sound.

“I don’t get off until nine.”

Genma’s flat words sounded like an excuse. Raidou could already see him trying to push down the emotions that had gripped him a moment ago.

“That’s okay,” Raidou promised, wondering when he’d started to all but beg for something he hadn’t planned to ask for. “I don’t mind.”

Genma regarded him for a moment, his expression worn and weary, his eyes red-rimmed and dull. Raidou’s heart twisted painfully, everything else forgotten as he tried to plead with the man he didn’t even know he could call his friend anymore.

“Will you come?”

Another moment slipped by, each second agonising. And then, just as the crushing jaws of rejection started to close around Raidou, threatening to break him, Genma gave a small but unmistakable nod.

And then he was gone, leaving Raidou to almost crumple to the ground, weak with heartache and relief.


End file.
